


Inheritance

by magnetic_pole



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-24
Updated: 2011-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetic_pole/pseuds/magnetic_pole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven short stories about the legacy of Walburga Black</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inheritance

6.

When I could no longer stand the pacing and the sulking, I gave up the pretense of reading and put my book down.

“Sirius.”

He whirled around, glaring at me.

“Living in this house is grim enough without you adding to my general sense of misery and hopelessness.”

“I’m not--”

“You haven’t spoken a word to me since the meeting.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“I think you do.”

Sirius began pacing again, visibly agitated. Back and forth, back and forth, from the fireplace to the door and back again, his feet wearing a path on his parents’ thick carpets. I watched and waited.

“Out with it.”

“He helped Wormtail betray us!” Sirius snarled. “How could you?”

I sighed. “We all played a part, Sirius.”

“Not like he did! He was there, he knew what was happening, and he did nothing to stop that rat.”

“Sirius--”

“I don’t want to hear you defend him. James and Lily are dead, and you’ve been consorting with the enemy.”

Lily and James had been dead for fourteen years, and it had been a long time since I’d thought of Severus Snape as the enemy. I struggled to find the right words. “Sirius, I’m not defending his actions at the time, I’m explaining that since then he’s proven himself--”

“Excuses.”

It was impossible to reason with him. “It’s been fourteen years,” I said as gently as I could. “Fourteen years. We’ve all changed.”

“Don’t you care what he did to you? To us?” Sirius leaned over the armchair, looming over me, glaring.

“Sirius--”

“He was sitting there next to you, like he owned you.”

I bristled at that. “I told you,” I said. “My past relationships are my business--”

“He was touching you,” Sirius said.

“Yes, he was.”

“You slept with him.”

“Yes, I did.”

“That’s disgusting,” Sirius spat.

My heart began to pound. “I told you, I will not stand for this kind of bigoted, pureblood attitude. I will walk out of this house and--”

“It’s not pureblood bigotry to object to that traitor.”

“Sirius--”

“It’s degrading that you would even--”

I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself.

His words echoed in my mind: Degrading. Disgusting.

Shame of my flesh.

Words that were all too familiar.

Words that I had heard over and over since we arrived at his parents’ house.

“Sirius--” I said gently, reaching up to touch his arm. He snatched his arm away and stepped back.

“Never mind,” I said. I stood up, gesturing for him to follow me. He stood stiffly, not responding. “Come here. Please. I want to show you something.”

And with that, I led him out into the hallway.

5.

The tea had already begun to cool by the time Minerva joined me in the kitchen. She peered around the door warily before entering.

“Come in,” I said.

“I didn’t know whether the offer of tea still stood,” she said.

I had never seen her this way, visibly shaken. “It does,” I said, pushing a teacup in her direction. “Sirius is sulking upstairs in the front room; everyone else has left. Just milk, if I remember correctly?”

“You needn’t feel sorry for me, Lupin,” she said sharply. “I’m not the type for tea and sympathy.”

“No such thought had crossed my mind,” I said, pulling out the chair next to me. Minerva hesitated for a moment, then sat down and rapped her wand against the teacup, so that steam rose from it again. She took a sip.

“I’m sorry, Remus. I feel a bit unnerved.” She sighed. “Thank you. For the tea.”

“No apology needed,” I said. “And no explanation is needed, either. I should have left earlier.”

She sat silently for a moment, lips pressed together, staring at her tea. I moved back to the stove, to reheat the kettle and give her a moment to herself. When I turned around, her expression had relaxed, and she had begun to recover her usual aplomb.

“I hadn’t thought of her in a while,” Minerva said. “Or rather, I think of her often, but with the sense of perspective that funeral and a period of mourning offer. You know she died about ten years ago?”

I rejoined her at the table. “Sirius and I went over the terms of the will last week with a solicitor and a director from Gringott’s.”

“Of course, and then there’s the business with the house, occupied again.” She nodded. “Of course you know. And you must have guessed just now that Walburga and I were in love when we were young.” Her voice was absolutely matter-of-fact, as if she were instructing first-years on how to transfigure their teacups.

It would have been hard not to notice. “I thought as much,” I said.

“It was long before I met Rolanda, when we were in school, for a number of years afterward,” she continued briskly. “We were young; it seemed like it would last forever.”

“But she married,” I said.

“Walburga believed in blood,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. “I knew she did. It had always been a point of contention between us, but it wasn’t a surprise. You know how purebloods are: families and children, above all else.”

“The family didn’t know, then.”

“They never did. It wasn’t difficult; we’d never told anyone, and her family arranged something with a cousin. I’ve always been very pragmatic. I thought we could manage, somehow,” Minerva said. “Her marriage was strained, of course. As was her family life, when she decided to have children. How could it be otherwise? What I didn’t expect was that our relationship became difficult, as well. Eventually, I...”

She trailed off, staring at the kitchen door and the stair beyond it.

“Eventually...” I prompted.

“Eventually I had to break it off,” Minerva said. “As much as I hated to do so, I couldn’t keep up the pretense. It was too painful. I met Rolanda a few years later.”

She looked at me sternly over the tops of her glasses. “I’ve never regretted it, Remus. But it pains me sometimes, when Sirius--”

She stopped herself.

“You can’t blame yourself for his behavior,” I said.

“No,” she said, her expression thoughtful. “I suppose not.”

The kettle whistled, breaking the moment. Minerva smiled. “Walburga was always wildly jealous, too, you know,” she added.

“Pardon?” I asked, taken aback.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t see him just now, at the meeting. He could hardly stand to think of you with someone else.”

“It wasn’t the way it looked,” I protested, but Minerva had already banished her teacup and stood up, preparing to leave.

“Can’t stay for another cup, I’m afraid. Too much to do before the end of the day. Tell Sirius not to let history repeat itself.”

And with that parting shot, she left me alone in the kitchen with the kettle whistling loudly.

4.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Minerva said as the last of the Order members departed, and the front door clanged shut, and a now-familiar wail echoed throughout the house. “Was that Severus who disturbed the portrait? He loves drama just as much as anyone else.”

“BLOOD TRAITORS! CONSORTING WITH THE SHAME OF MY FLESH!”

“We just need to close the curtains,” I said apologetically, as if the house’s secrets and embarrassments were already my own. “I’ll just--”

The curtains had been charmed with a spell I couldn’t identify. It took brute force to close them once open, and even then it was difficult. I braced myself and pulled. Only after a few moments did I realize that Minerva was leaning against the door jamb, watching me.

“DISGUSTING! DEGRADING!”

“Can I help?” Minerva asked. “There must be a spell.”

“You’re welcome to try,” I said.

She already had her wand out, ready, but, to my surprise, instead of casting a spell on the curtains, she stood for a moment in front of the portrait, frowning. “Did Sirius tell you anything about this portrait?” she asked.

“VILE MUGGLE-LOVING SCUM!”

Minerva’s piercing gaze made me feel as if I were back in school again. “Sirius said something about his mother,” I said. “A bad joke, I’m sure; they never got on. I’m not sure who it is.”

Minerva narrowed her eyes and passed her wand not over the velvet curtains but the surface of the portrait itself, murmuring a series of spells I hadn’t heard before.

“GENERATIONS OF BLACKS HAVE HONORED THIS HOUSE AND WHAT IT STANDS FOR, AND NOW YOU DEFILE IT!”

“I never...” Minerva trailed off, perplexed. She swept her wand across the canvas one more time, then pulled back.

“Did Sirius say anything about--oh! Right! Very clever.” Minerva drew back. “I should have known.” She tucked her wand back into her pocket and reached out to touch the painting.

As soon as her fingers brushed the canvas, the portrait fell silent and began to shimmer and change. The hag straightened up and squared her shoulders and wiped her mouth; her wrinkles began to fade; her hideous expression softened; her grizzled grey hair smoothed itself and took on a deep shine. Within moments, she was a striking, thin, dark-haired woman with Sirius’ features and defiant expression.

“Is that what she looked like?” I asked, astounded to finally see the woman Sirius so rarely talked about. But as I turned to look at Minerva, I realized I had missed the greatest change of all: Minerva McGonagall gazed at the portrait with the delight and incredulity of a school girl.

She glanced at me with a wry smile. “That’s what she looked like to me.” I wouldn’t have heard the correction had her words not been chosen so carefully.

“Minerva,” the dark-haired figure said in a low, musical voice. “Minerva.”

The figure in the portrait knelt down so that she was at eye level with us, and her robes brushed up against the bottom of the frame as she leaned in. She stared at Minerva with an expression of such transparent joy and expectation I felt as if I was intruding. She raised her hand, tentatively at first, then with more confidence, pressing her palm against the surface of the canvas. Minerva slowly raised her own hand to meet hers, her eyes lighting up as she did so.

They stood there, hands pressed together, staring at one another. “I’ll just--some tea for both of us, later on--” I said, backing away as quietly as I could.

I needn’t have bothered. Neither Minerva nor the woman in the portrait was listening.

3.

“Babysitting the cur?” Severus asked as he swept into the house, surveying first the hallway, then the front room where Minerva and I had conjured a large, oak table and a dozen chairs for the meeting.

“Hullo, Severus,” I said pointedly. “Good to see you again. It’s been a while.”

“The school year,” he said with a wave of his hand. “A recent decline in your fortunes, Lupin, that you would take a job as a nursemaid?”

“Easier to look after one than thirty,” I said amiably. “And please don’t call him the cur; he’ll be joining us for the meeting.”

Severus rolled his eyes.

“You said yourself the Order needed everyone wizard it could find.”

“An unfortunate truth,” he said. Then, more seriously: “You look good, Lupin.” He studied me as if it had been two years and not two months since our last meeting.

“It wouldn’t come as such a surprise if you sent an owl occasionally,” I said.

“I prefer to keep my air of mystery.”

“It’s far too late for that.”

Severus raised an eyebrow and touched my arm, but we were interrupted by the clanging doorbell and the sounds of voices and footsteps in the hallway.

“HALF-BLOODS! FILTH IN THE ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK!”

“Wands out!”

“Oy!”

“What the--”

And then, a moment later, Minerva’s voice calling from the library upstairs. “Sirius! Remus! Tend to the portrait, please! And tell the others to be careful as they pass by. I’m growing tired of this routine.”

Severus helped me pull the curtains closed as Moody and Emmeline and Kingsley filed into the front room. By the time the portrait had been silenced, most of the members of the Order had taken their places around the large table. Severus pulled my chair out for me and touched my back as I sat down.

Across the table, Sirius glared at us.

Severus shifted so his arm rested against mine. I pulled away. He shifted closer, so that we were touching again. I stepped on his foot. Hard.

Minerva cleared her throat. “Before we begin, I know that this is our first meeting in our new location, and I want to be certain that we are all quite clear on --”

“Minerva,” Sirius interrupted. “Have you noticed that a Death Eater is among us?”

“Not again, Sirius,” I muttered.

“Sirius, do let us move on,” Minerva said.

“I have no intention of letting a spy hear about plans involving my godson.”

“Then you run the risk of missing valuable intelligence,” Severus said.

“Nothing you say is ever intelligent,” Sirius replied hotly.

“Silence!” Minerva said. “Both of you. Sirius, don’t be ridiculous. Sit down.”

Sirius was halfway out of his chair, wand aimed in Severus’ direction.

“Black, you may live in a world of duels and revenge,” Severus said. “But I am more concerned with keeping Potter alive.”

Sirius’ face flushed with rage, and then he turned on his heel and left with a flourish, slamming the door behind him. A murmur went around the table, and a moment later we could hear the hag screaming from the hallway again:

“SHAME OF MY FLESH!”

“Black has always had a flair for the dramatic,” Severus said smoothly. “Minerva, back to work?”

2.

A shrill screeching woke me on my first morning at Grimmauld Place. It was a few minutes before dawn, and I scrambled to find my robe at the foot of my bed in the weak light shining though the windows.

“YOU! YOOOOOOU! I TOLD YOU NEVER TO SET FOOT IN THIS HOUSE AGAIN!”

Then came the sound of agitated, hysterical laughter.

“Sirius? What’s happened?” I called out, stepping into the dusty first floor hallway. Everything about this house set my nerves on edge. “Sirius?”

I crept down the stairs, wand ready, half-expecting the worst, only to find my oldest friend sprawled on the floor of the hallway at the foot of the stair, robes up around his waist, as if he’d fallen and decided not to get up. He was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.

To his left, on the wall opposite the staircase, the odd pair of moth-eaten velvet curtains had been pushed aside, revealing a full-length portrait of an ancient, hideous hag, shriveled and bent over with the effort of screaming.

“BLOOD TRAITOR!”

“What--” I glanced from the portrait to Sirius and back again.

“My mother,” he said from his position on the floor, trying to catch his breath.

“DIRTY MUGGLE-LOVER!”

“Sirius,” I said. “You’re not making any sense. You’ve had a long night. Help me shut her up.”

“It was in the way,” he said, between huffs of laughter. “I was coming down the stairs...wanted a cup of coffee...bumped up against my shoulder, and the bloody curtains flew open, and there she was.”

“DISGRACE TO THE FAMILY! ABOMINATION!”

I aimed my wand at the curtains, but they didn’t move. I tried again. Then, tucking my wand beneath my arm, I gave the red velvet a tug, to no avail.

“Up, Sirius,” I said. “Now. I need help.”

Sirius giggled. “Hullo, Mum.”

“SHAME OF MY FLESH!”

Sirius lolled on the floor, his laughter trailing off into a half-sob and then into silence. I grasped the curtains and tugged with all my might, until they snapped shut, silencing the hag at last.

“What happened?” Sirius asked, sitting up to look, his interest finally piqued.

“Nothing happened,” I said, grasping him under the arms and pulling him to his feet. “You had too much Firewhiskey last night,” I said. “I know the feeling.” But Sirius had clearly stayed up long after I retired.

“Can you stand on your own?” I asked, pulling away. He swayed, then caught himself by leaning on the wall.

“I told you!” he said. “Well, I didn’t tell you, Moony. But I told Father, and I told James and his parents. No one ever believed me.”

“I believe you, Sirius,” I said.

“No, you don’t,” he said, voice rising as he spoke. “Wait! I did tell you! I told you last week that I didn’t want to come back here.”

“You did, Sirius,” I said. I pulled his arm over my shoulders and grasped him around the waist. “There. Can you walk upstairs? If I help a bit?”

“That,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at the portrait. “That is my mother, and no one has ever believed me.”

“Back to bed,” I said, pulling him toward the stairs. He dragged his feet. “Let’s sleep this one off, shall we?”

“Goodnight, Mum,” he said to the shrouded portrait. “Say goodnight, Remus.” When I didn’t respond, he slouched like a child, forcing me to hold him up.

“Goodnight, Madam Black,” I said. “Upstairs, Sirius? Please?”

1.

I noticed the moth-eaten velvet curtains in the hallway as soon as we arrived at Grimmauld Place, late in the afternoon on a sunny summer day.

“What’s behind these, Sirius?” I asked, running my fingers along the aging fabric. The curtains were enchanted; I could feel the magic. They were also musty. The damp in the house was already palpable.

“What?” He glanced into the front room, then back at the curtains. “Don’t know. They weren’t here before. Everything else looks the same.”

I ran my hand along the gilded picture frame behind the velvet. “An illustrious relative, perhaps?”

Sirius shrugged. “No relation to me,” he said. “I’m finished with being a Black, I told you. We’re just here for the real estate.”

“You don’t cast off a family like an outworn robe,” I said.

“Oh, yes, you can,” Sirius said darkly. “And if you’re especially clever, you’ll do it before they do it to you.”

He had been moody since we met at my flat earlier that day, and I squeezed his arm in sympathy. “I know you didn’t want to--”

But as I touched him, he jumped back nervously, putting a good two feet between us. We both looked at the gap, and he laughed a bit too loudly. “Bloody house sets me on edge,” he said. “You’ll see, soon enough. I’ll be impossible within a week.”

It was the house, I told myself. Nothing but the house. “You’ve always been impossible,” I said, and he punched my shoulder awkwardly, like he used to punch James.

“Right,” I said. “Shall we take a look at the first floor?”

7.

Left alone, the dark-haired figure in the portrait stood quietly, distant and abstracted, oblivious to our approach. Sirius’ expression hardened when he saw her, and he watched her warily, as he might have watched a menacing and unfamiliar creature in the Forbidden Forest.

“She was beautiful,” I said, testing the cauldron. “She looks quite a bit like you.”

Sirius barked his disbelief, unwilling to take that compliment. “She was never that beautiful. Who got her to change?”

“Minerva,” I said.

“Just now?”

“About half an hour ago. She was helping me close the curtains after the meeting.”

He frowned, uncomprehending. “How did she--?”

“The same way you did. Contact.”

He frowned.

“You bumped into it the first night here.”

His eyes lit up at the memory. “Right,” he said. “Didn’t realize they knew one another,” he added. “There’s a story there, I imagine.”

“You should ask her.”

“Have you tried?” He nodded at the portrait.

I shrugged. “I never met her,” I said. I rubbed my thumb against the corner of the canvas. The dark-haired woman glanced at me, annoyed at the interruption to her reverie, but just as I’d imagined, I had no effect on the painting. “Better for everyone involved, I suppose. I don’t imagine we would have got on.”

He laughed, a bitter, barking laugh. “No, you wouldn’t have.”

“Too disgusting?” I asked.

He was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry, Moony. I shouldn’t have said that, just now. I didn’t intend to--”

“It’s fine,” I said. “No need. You won’t do it again.”

“He just gets me so angry, I can’t think,” Sirius said. “I say things I don’t mean. It’s as if I can’t help myself.”

“I know,” I said. His anger and confusion were as evident as Minerva’s love.

“I know that you know,” Sirius said. “But I should know better. I do know better, Moony, believe me.”

“Sirius,” I said slowly. “I believe you.” I reached out and grasped his hand and squeezed it.

He looked at me, eyes wide.

“Right,” I said, dropping his hand and steering him back into the front room, away from the painting. “Just stay away from the portrait in future, please. I’m not fond of her commentary, and I’m starting to enjoy the peaceful, tomb-like silence of this house.”

Sirius laughed again, a bitter, barking laugh. “It’s just the old hag, Moony,” he said. “Whoever listened to anything she said?”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for hoggywartyxmas 2010


End file.
